Parking Lots and Flip-Flops
by FindingStory
Summary: While walking alone in a parking lot, Connie hears the footsteps of someone following her, and becomes convinced she's about to be attacked. Meanwhile, poor Steven can't find his car, and begins to run. Connverse! Based off a Tumblr post by rexuality


Connie swore quietly to herself as she walked slowly through the parking lot, searching through the thousands of cars around her to find her own. The moonless sky hung overhead, filling with rolling clouds, and a frigid wind blew around her, making her clutch her jacket around herself tighter, shivering. Snow drifted by, the beginnings of a snowstorm, and ice blanketed the ground, forcing her to walk carefully.

"Come _on_ ," she muttered, holding up her keys and pressing the alarm button. Her car didn't respond. "Why won't you just wo—"

 _Slap slap slap_.

Connie froze, glancing around. Were those footsteps? Or was her brain just playing tricks on her, trying to make her paranoid? Either way, as her heart rate quickened, so did her pace, and she looked a bit more urgently for her car, wishing to be in its warmth, its safety, wishing more than anything to be going home.

 _Slap slap slap!_

Those were definitely footsteps, running ones. Was someone coming for her? Connie dug in her pocket until she found her pepper spray, and held it tightly, walking as fast as the ice would allow. The footsteps continued, but Connie couldn't tell where they were coming from. She looked left and right, desperate to find her car.

 _Slap slap SLAP!_

Connie began to run, slipping and sliding on the ice, pressing her alarm button over and over, praying that her car would respond. Who built such big parking lots for schools, anyway? If she survived, the superintendent would surely get an angry note from her.

 _SLAP SLAP SLAP!_

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she began to run faster, scrambling on the slippery ice. She scanned the rows urgently. Why couldn't she find her car? Her heart was racing. She clenched the pepper spray in her fist and walked even faster. The footsteps were closer now, more urgent, and Connie rounded a corner, running down a row of cars, and crashed into something tall and warm.

She yelped as she fell backwards, and the figure yelped too as she scrambled to find purchase on the ice, and slipped onto her bottom. A figure, dark and ominous, only a shadow eclipsing the flickering street-lamps, stood above her, and Connie windmilled backwards, pushing herself away, frantically trying to pull her pepper-spray from her pocket. She screamed, "I'm armed! Please don't come any closer!"

"Don't shoot! Please!" The voice that answered her was deep and handsome, but it held an innocent, childish note, and it was filled with fear. Connie slowed in her struggling as the figure stepped into the light.

Ringlets of deep brown curls surrounded a round face and fell down his back in a waterfall of chocolate. His eyes, dark and warm, were wide and fearful, and he stretched his arms above his head in a gesture of surrender. His shirt, Connie realized with a silent laugh, read, "Professional Beach Hunk," in bright letters.

"W-Why were you following me?" Connie demanded, trying, and failing, to get to her feet. The man shook his head; his hair bounced with him, and Connie couldn't help but notice how pretty it was.

"I wasn't! I swear! I just..." He trailed off, looking away, lowing his arms. "I-I don't like the dark..."

Connie almost laughed. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked.

"Y-yeah! I couldn't find my car, and it's really empty here, and there's supposed to be a snow-storm coming and I freaked out! I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"

Connie nodded, and then yelped as her foot went out from beneath her. A strong hand caught her by the arm and pulled her to her feet as easily as if she weighed nothing.

"T-Thanks," she said. "I... I couldn't find my car either. I was freaking out too." She shoved her hands in her pockets, not meeting his eyes, as her face went warm.

"Well..." The man hesitated, pushing hair behind his ears in an attempt to get it out of his face. "We could... Look together? If you want?"

Connie looked up at him, in his earnest brown eyes, and found herself nodding. "O-Okay, I guess. What's your car look like?"

"It's a pink truck with a lot of decals," he answered as they began to walk. Connie smiled.

"Mine's blue with a book shaped antenna topper," Connie said with a little laugh. "Oh! I'm Connie, by the way!"

"Nice to meet you, Connie!" the man said, holding out a big hand for her to shake. "My name's Steven."


End file.
